


The Summit

by WeekendWriter



Series: A Far Cry from Canon [3]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 4
Genre: Boys Being Cute, Canon Compliant, Kyrat Scenery, Kyrat Shenanigans, M/M, also Kyrat has many places for shenanigans, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 00:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeekendWriter/pseuds/WeekendWriter
Summary: A hand presses against his mouth and the unmistakable curve of another body presses against his front. Ajay’s cry of surprise is cut off as he meets a pair of serious jade-green eyes.“Shhhh brother.”Sabal?





	The Summit

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt “we were forced to hide in this very cramped space and this is a very awkward position to be stuck in with someone you’re avoiding because they’re too attractive for you to deal with” au. Because Kyrat has way too many places for the two of them to fall into this prompt.

The summit. Ajay breathes in deeply, feels as the tension already fades from his shoulders like the snow fading into the Kyrati air. This far up, he’s so far away from the bullshit down below that for a second, he can almost escape it. No more Amita-and-Sabal tug-of-war, no more Pagan barking weirdly paternal shit in his ear when he’s running (always when he’s running, it’s like the guy has a sixth sense for inopportune moments or something). Though he can’t deny that the last remark cut too close to the bone.

_Have you fallen into Amita’s honey pot, or have you been dazzled by Sabal’s flowing locks and bad-boy jawline?_

Ajay snorts to himself. Bad-boy jawline. He never would have pegged someone as prim and proper as Pagan to appreciate something like Sabal’s scarred jawline. 

Not that it’s unattractive. Just… another day, another surprise, Ajay muses. 

Unless the self-proclaimed Kyrati King is instead drawing on the talk of others. Wouldn’t be the first time rumors have made their rounds around the villages. That’s something else Ajay can’t hear all the way up at the Eklo Benidu Summit, and he’s the most grateful for this. It’s no secret that half of the Golden Path members have signed up, armed and ready, just for a change at a glimpse of Sabal’s, well –  


flowing locks and bad-boy jawline.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it himself. 

Only one or twice. And only in the confines of his room.

…not like that sounds any better. 

Ajay takes another deep pull of the mountain air. It’s fresh and icy-tinged and almost feels as though it could chase his problems away. He closes his eyes for a second and wills it to, although he knows that’s as likely as him praying to one of the many gods he’s been introduced to in the past week. No, the crisp Himalayan air will have to be enough for now. It’s not often he gets breaks such as this, and he’s gonna enjoy this even if it kills him.

It might kill him.

The first warning sign is the yip that cuts through the air. By now, Ajay’s kicked back with his boots and gloves off, his back cooling against the summit’s ground. At that noise, though, his head shoots back up quickly enough that he knows he’ll have a kink in his neck tomorrow.

But he’s got bigger problems right now.

The first Dhole rushes him before he can grab a weapon of any kind, but it’s the next two after that that are the cause for alarm. Suddenly there are more of them than he can count. He’s heard of packs of them, sure, but when the hell did they group like this?

Ajay’s only escape is down the mountainside – but fuck, the grappling hook –

He slides awkwardly down the kill and drops onto the unforgiving cliff face below. The gravel eating into his palms is a new sensation, and one he’s glad he’s missed out on so far. 

If those Dholes eat up his gloves, he’s gonna be pissed. 

There’s a small cave around the north face of the summit and he guns toward it as he hears the Dhole chatter picking up in intensity. They’re chasing him – and enjoying it, the little fuckers. The slide into the cave tears at his jeans, but it’s better than Dhole teeth tearing at his calves. It’s dark and dank in the cave, and a far cry from the fresh mountain air. There’s something underlying in the scent though, something more alive and familiar than he should be smelling in an ancient cave –

A hand presses against his mouth and the unmistakable curve of another body presses against his front. Ajay’s cry of surprise is cut off as he meets a pair of serious jade-green eyes.

“Shhhh brother.”

Sabal?

Ajay’s eyes adjust slowly to the darkness. Sure enough, that’s Sabal’s frame clinging to his own. What in the hell is he doing in here? It’s an ancient cave, sure, but Ajay’s not heard anything about the locals coming here so far, so it’s unlikely that Sabal was hiding out to pray.

The frustrated cries of Dhole above him remind him. Right. Sabal’s likely hiding out for the exact same reason he is; safety. The chattering continues above them. Ajay swallows thickly and realizes suddenly just how close Sabal is. Sabal’s hips are practically digging into his own; the hand around his mouth has gone slack, then firm again, then slack in a matter of seconds, as if the exact same thoughts are flying through Sabal’s own mind. The yowling above continues, and Sabal moves his hand instead down to Ajay’s throat.

Ajay’s own hand reaches for Sabal’s wrists, though not urgently; Sabal’s not grabbing his throat, more like…

Lightly caressing?

A particularly loud and close yap echoes through the cave and Sabal’s grip tightens –

\--he can’t help it. 

Ajay gasps lightly, enough that Sabal turns his head sharply and regards him with serious green eyes. Sabal’s lips are slightly parted and Ajay can’t believe that the man’s been holding him up for several minutes now; seriously, the man’s arms aren’t even shaking in the slightest, yet Ajay can’t remember a time when he wasn’t held suspended by the older man’s strength. It’s somehow even calmer than standing alone in the crisp Kyrati air. So he goes with it, almost folds himself further into Sabal.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by the older man. Sabal pauses for a fraction of a second, gauging the noise above them, before he pulls Ajay even closer. “Ajay…”

It’s something else, hearing his own name from the man’s through instead of some iteration of being his father’s kid. For the first time, Ajay feels like Sabal’s actually looking at him rather than some new-age iteration of a father he never knew. Sabal’s attention turns suddenly to his hands, and the older man draws in a sharp breath. Ajay’s confused until he realizes that his gloves are on the ground of the hill above them, and Sabal is tracing long fingers along his own with a kind of reverence he’s only seen when Sabal prays, or when the older man is kneeling at a statue of Kyra. He traces Ajay’s knuckles with a slowness that drags Ajay even further out of the present. He knows they’re both just here, crammed into an impossible small space, because it’s safe, but–

Oh. 

Sabal presses even further into his personal space, and Ajay can only stare as sabal presses his lips to his own.

Oh.

So it seems he’s not the only one that’s affected by the proximity of their space. Not when he can feel Sabal’s erection pressed against the inside of his own, and Ajay stops. 

Thoughts of the talk of the town about Sabal’s looks fly through Ajay’s mind, but her the man of the talk is, twining his tongue with Ajay’s own as he does his best to become a part of Ajay, it seems like. 

This Sabal is a different monster than he’s used to dealing with. Normally, it’s you disappointed your father here, and you’re ruining his ideals there, but this is an all-consuming entity hell-bent on erasing Ajay himself and creating a new, combined person altogether. Ajay emerges from the latest onslaught of kisses and sighs breathlessly into the air. Sabal’s lips trace up his neck and Ajay’s will is weaker than he thought; he can do little than surrender to the man in front of him. Slowly, Ajay’s pressed to the rock face beneath them as Sabal leads them down, and then pauses. 

The chattering of the Dholes is long gone at this point, but Sabal simply smirks down at him and reaches for his zipper. 

Probably a better stress reliever than the summit, Ajay thinks.


End file.
